


lock it away (because it's a treasure)

by thinkatory



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Adopted Children, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/pseuds/thinkatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He gets up. He takes his medications and his injections. He's awake before anyone else on their shift, and in the quiet of the morning he kneels in front of the endtable where the pictures stand.</i> These are the days of Stacker Pentecost, one of the last men standing between the world and its end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lock it away (because it's a treasure)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/gifts).



> Hi, hellkitty! I wanted to do a slice-of-life for Stacker, and this is as close as I could get the muse to get. I hope you enjoy this! (Note: I included some canon from the comics and Travis Beacham himself; I hope that's not a problem. :D)

Stacker wakes up every morning and does the same things. It's a carryover from military school, from the military itself, and now, it's the only way to have some stability in a world where everything is transient.

 

He gets up. He takes his medications and his injections. He's awake before anyone else on their shift, and in the quiet of the morning he kneels in front of the endtable where the pictures stand. They're snapshots he still has of Luna and Tamsin, before everything went to hell, when they were happy and smiling, in unpretentious black metal frames. There's the one Polaroid of his family all together when he was ten years old, at a family picnic in the nearby park in Tottenham, his mother leaning against his father, his father smiling broadly.

 

He prays. Not to a deity, not strictly speaking. He remembers the dead, and prays to the universe that no more might die that need not be killed. He prays to remind himself that he might not be the cause of more deaths than would happen without his presence. He prays to remind himself all that he's lost, and all that he's gained.

 

There's a slight knock on the door. He smiles as he raises his head. "Sensei," Mako says, behind the door, and he rises to open the door and see her face.

 

She stands there, and smiles, just half her face lifting, then she bows to him, and he returns the gesture. He jerks his head to indicate she come in. Once the door is shut behind them, they embrace.

 

"Are you ready, Mako?" he asks her, still close.

 

"Of course." She hugs him closer. "I believe this will work. But when it comes to Becket, Marshall, I am not certain -- "

 

"You won't believe him until you see him." He pulls away from her, and meets her gaze. "Do you trust me?"

 

Her face hardens. "You know that I do."

 

"Then we have nothing more to discuss."

 

She wants to argue. He can see it in the tension in her shoulders, in the firm set of her mouth. But he releases her, and she drifts away from him. "Tell me," he says. "How have the nightmares been?"

 

"You have seen the reports, Marshall."

 

He starts to shave. "I would like to hear it from you."

 

"I haven't had any nightmares."

 

"Good." He nods, between strokes of his straight-razor. "I'll see you downstairs, Mako."

 

She hesitates, nearly audibly. "Sensei."

 

He doesn't say a word, doesn't react, and she leaves. He watches her go, shutting the door calmly behind herself. And despite all of the pain they've collectively suffered, the unhappy ending that is in plain sight for all those he commands and loves, he is proud, in that moment, of the family he has made for himself.

 

\--

 

Once Mako is stable, and mostly silent, Stacker holds her. He kisses her forehead, and brushes the hair behind her ears. He loves her so much it pains him. He has always seen her as a child, his child, but to see her so truly childlike again reminds him how far she's come, and how much is at risk by putting her into the drift.

 

"Not again," he murmurs to her.

 

She's awake, and she says nothing. (Does she agree? With someone as cleverly duplicitous as his Mako, there is no true way to tell.)

 

\--

 

As Mako stares rebelliously at him when he gives his orders, then leaves, he remembers lighting the match, he remembers the heat of the flames beating against his face, he remembers wanting it to cure the hatred that overtook him like a disease with one final act of defiance.

 

(Nothing cures it. Just like the cancer. Nothing works in a world like this. All you can do is make the best of the worst.)

 

 _Just lock the memories away,_ Tamsin told him. _Don't forget them. Don't dishonor them. Lock them away like they're treasures. Even the worst of them make us who we are._

 

\--

 

He wakes. He takes the medications and gives himself the injections. He prays for those under his protection. He prays for Mako, and Raleigh Becket.

 

\--

 

 _Hong Kong is beautiful_ , he thinks. _Even at war, it's beautiful._

 

It's another day with the War Clock ticking away. It's reset to zero, the numbers rise, the cycle continues. Every day since the day the kaiju rose has been the same, with variations upon a theme. People die and people are saved, kaiju come and are defeated. It's not been worth holding out hope for the best of all possible worlds. This is the world.

 

But now there's today, where all there is is a choice between hope and utter despair. Today is destiny dawning, today is the beginning of the end, and there is no happily ever after for any of those who have seen all the kaiju have brought along with them. But they can rebuild. They can relearn what it's like to be at peace. The next generation may see children playing, cities thriving, the human race living without fear, united and safe. It all depends on the PPCD, the Hong Kong Shatterdome, and what they are willing to give.

 

This is his family. Stacker is proud of his family. And whatever happens, whatever any of them have to do, he will be proud.

 

\--

 

"Getting back into that Jaeger will kill you," Mako presses him.

 

He turns to look at her. He touches her face. "Not getting into one would kill us all. Listen -- "  She watches him, and his throat tightens, but he pushes through. "You are brave, girl. I am so lucky to have seen you grow. And if I'm going to do this, I need to you to protect me."

 

She's crying. (He has to lock it away, treasure it, treasure her love.) "Can you do that?" he asks.

 

She nods. They both straighten to attention.

 

There's nothing left to do but do it.

 

\--

 

When the neural handshake grips him, he surrenders to it and holds himself apart all at once. He breathes in Hansen's mind, and lets himself be breathed in. He knows this will be his last chance to pilot a Jaeger, to save his family, to save the world. This will be his last chance to do what he can for Mako, his Mako, and make sure that her sacrifice, that all of her sacrifices weren't in vain.

 

He exhales. He feels the strain already taking hold of him, and he knows Hansen feels it too. He doesn't care. He can do this, cancer or no cancer, partner or no partner, he has always been able to make it, to survive, to _get it done_.

 

And by God they will get it done.

 

The world will not end on Stacker Pentecost's watch, no matter the cost. No cost is too great to give for hope, and a new beginning. And as the breach closes, a new world will open.


End file.
